Hot Songtext
von John Forté
Hot Songtext
Oops, Nuts baby
No need to be scared, you got to be prepared
No games, just taking names
I got a vendetta, son, if I must say
You need to recognize John Forté
I want two minutes, uninterrupted
Just to let you know how things go
The full-on introduction
Listen hard, I put you on to something
So let all the gentlemen and ladies finally meet the Nuts baby
I heard the buzz, lord, it trapped me
With all these niggas records sounding happy
That′s nonsense
So even when I smile, I'm kicking street shit to bounce with
You want what? Affiliated
With some world renowned that′s fifteen records gold-plated
But it's the Nuts baby
Know your territory 'fore you play it
Is you crazy, nigga?
Every ghetto block taste this gravy
Shady niggas hate to say we unofficial
Grits will slide, dog, I′m certified
You rappers irk me to my heart
With a spike in every tree
Oddity, sounding like you got to
Be who you be
Centers, don′t shoot a three
I hit it hard, love
My pain is sincere
I want revenge, what'd it get me?
Hot this year, it′s to stop your career
Some brother sit straight
Bragging on the air like you did weight
You midway
I'm closer to the street than a mixtape, baby
Who you think you dealing with?
I′m known to dip
On and off many tracks as I write my own shit
So who fraud? Speak on it, god
Get the point?
While your shine's getting snatched in the club, I′m getting love
In the strip joint type
VIP or downtown
New York diggy
Three scoops and have 'em giggling
It's Nuts baby
This a grown man affair
I know thugs who strip ′em bare
And do drugs like breathing air
But I rarely go there
I′m here to think quick and drink slow
The brothers that I link with
Got liquid like ink flow
Shorties act instinct 'til they seen the video
And want ends
With my mans
I break ′em off like bobby pins
Joyride like Spragga Benz
Only seven niggas close
'Til death or overdose
Manage funds with number one
OT′s with baby guns
Chop lye with Mr. Rash
Get laid with Freddy Suede
Nelldoog, you do the books
Pretty Pat stay paid
And to my mentor, the true inventor
Black Sinatra
The San Diego don
Adolf with Aliasha
What the deal?
That the deal
I set shit off and peel
And when I sell a million plates
We need to renegotiate
Mostly lately, I'm getting on ′em
You tryna rate me?
I'm shitting on 'em
Well, you can hate me ′cause I′m swift
Who the mouthpiece for beef?
Jealous niggas just riff
You know the stat there, I bless it
I ain't home, leave a message
You a ho from years ago
John Forté ain′t interested
I let my mans call it
For the ballers if you check it
'Cause all you got to do is make a record
No need to be scared, you got to be prepared
No games, just taking names
I got a vendetta, son, if I must say
You need to recognize John Forté
I want two minutes, uninterrupted
Just to let you know how things go
The full-on introduction
Listen hard, I put you on to something
So let all the gentlemen and ladies finally meet the Nuts baby
I heard the buzz, lord, it trapped me
With all these niggas records sounding happy
That′s nonsense
So even when I smile, I'm kicking street shit to bounce with
You want what? Affiliated
With some world renowned that′s fifteen records gold-plated
But it's the Nuts baby
Know your territory 'fore you play it
Is you crazy, nigga?
Every ghetto block taste this gravy
Shady niggas hate to say we unofficial
Grits will slide, dog, I′m certified
You rappers irk me to my heart
With a spike in every tree
Oddity, sounding like you got to
Be who you be
Centers, don′t shoot a three
I hit it hard, love
My pain is sincere
I want revenge, what'd it get me?
Hot this year, it′s to stop your career
Some brother sit straight
Bragging on the air like you did weight
You midway
I'm closer to the street than a mixtape, baby
Who you think you dealing with?
I′m known to dip
On and off many tracks as I write my own shit
So who fraud? Speak on it, god
Get the point?
While your shine's getting snatched in the club, I′m getting love
In the strip joint type
VIP or downtown
New York diggy
Three scoops and have 'em giggling
It's Nuts baby
This a grown man affair
I know thugs who strip ′em bare
And do drugs like breathing air
But I rarely go there
I′m here to think quick and drink slow
The brothers that I link with
Got liquid like ink flow
Shorties act instinct 'til they seen the video
And want ends
With my mans
I break ′em off like bobby pins
Joyride like Spragga Benz
Only seven niggas close
'Til death or overdose
Manage funds with number one
OT′s with baby guns
Chop lye with Mr. Rash
Get laid with Freddy Suede
Nelldoog, you do the books
Pretty Pat stay paid
And to my mentor, the true inventor
Black Sinatra
The San Diego don
Adolf with Aliasha
What the deal?
That the deal
I set shit off and peel
And when I sell a million plates
We need to renegotiate
Mostly lately, I'm getting on ′em
You tryna rate me?
I'm shitting on 'em
Well, you can hate me ′cause I′m swift
Who the mouthpiece for beef?
Jealous niggas just riff
You know the stat there, I bless it
I ain't home, leave a message
You a ho from years ago
John Forté ain′t interested
I let my mans call it
For the ballers if you check it
'Cause all you got to do is make a record
Writer(s): John E Forte Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
